


He's Not a Machine

by MsAnimeManga4ever



Series: Sherlocked [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsAnimeManga4ever/pseuds/MsAnimeManga4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets sick and John tries to find out what he has....angst ensues...followed by some fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Not a Machine

                John was sitting in his favorite chair, updating his blog, when Sherlock walked through the living room.

“Why are you soaking wet?” Sherlock stopped and looked at John absently.

“Why am I wet?” he restated, sniffing after.

“Yes, why are you wet?”

“Oh, chased a killer into a river. The water was freezing.” John looked at Sherlock like he was insane.

“Sherlock!” Said man flinched at his boyfriend’s volume, stopping John from speaking further. “Sherlock?” John put his laptop aside. “Are you alright?” he asked as he walked to his flat mate.

“Uh, yeah.” Sherlock’s answer was followed by a sneeze and another sniffle. John put his hand on Sherlock’s arm.

“You’ve been acting slightly off the past couple of days. Have you been feeling well?” Sherlock shook off his hand.

“I’ve been fine John.”

“Really?” The doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, really,” Sherlock answered, turning away from John.

“Then how is it that you’re radiating heat when you were just in a freezing cold river?” Sherlock kept silent as he slowly made his way to his room. “You can’t even walk normally. Honestly Sherlock, why did you go into that river when you haven’t been feeling well?”

“John.” Sherlock said faintly.

“You know I’m not stupid, and you know I’m a doctor. Even if you don’t tell me you’re under the weather I’m going to find out.”

“John.”

“What?” John whirled around to see Sherlock stagger, right himself, and then start to sway on his feet. Immediately he shot forward and caught Sherlock as he started to fall-easing him to the floor and onto his lap. “I never thought the day would come when Sherlock Holmes fainted.” He shook his head.

_Best get him to bed and see what exactly is wrong with him._

                Sherlock woke up and moaned, making himself cringe as he cradled his head. He was in so much pain. John appeared in the doorway, looking at his boyfriend in pity.

“Hey Sherlock,” he said quietly. Sherlock just grunted in response, curling in on himself further. “How does your stomach feel? Want to see if you can keep some pain pills down?” The detective whimpered and John padded to the kitchen.                                                                                                                                   At first John didn’t know whether Sherlock had a serious illness or a common cold. His boyfriend’s current symptoms were just too broad. But as time passed Sherlock showed signs of more symptoms-helping the doctor narrow it down. He already knew about the fever, dizziness, fatigue and imbalance once Sherlock had gotten home from his case. The headache was evident when he woke up from his fainting spell, and when John had come back with tea and toast he found out about the pain and discomfort. It was later that night (A little after twelve precisely) that John discovered the chills while he was checking on the detective.

This made John think that Sherlock had the flu, but they had just gotten their vaccinations last month. For the next hour the doctor was glued to his laptop-sitting in his chair in the living room-scouring the internet for possible diagnoses. John had complied a list of possibilities and was reading through it-trying to keep Sherlock’s habits and general health behaviors in mind-when he came across Lyme disease. It was something children generally got seeing as they are much more active in a way that could put them at risk, but Sherlock was just as active in that field. Just recently they had been traipsing through the woods for the case Sherlock had just finished. Lyme disease was something that was rare, but if you got it and it was left to its own devices it could get really serious really fast.

And so Sherlock Holmes, feeling the worst he ever remembers feeling, was woken up from much needed sleep.

“Sherlock I need you to get up.” He curled in on himself and whined.

“John.”

“I know you don’t feel well but you have to get up. I need you to cooperate with me.” Sherlock just huffed and let himself be dragged out of bed-shaking like a leaf.

“What do I even have to do?”

“Take your clothes off.”

“What? Why?” the detective whined again.

“I have to check you for ticks.” Sherlock stood as still as he could while John stripped him down. After scouring the taller man’s body, John found a deer tick with a target mark around it. “Well shit. Stay here, I’ve got to get the tweezers.”

 

                A couple days later Sherlock felt well enough to leave his bed. So at eleven o’clock in the morning he emerged into the living room decked in flannel pajamas and wrapped in a heavy blanket. The detective happened upon Detective Inspector Lestrade and John leaning over a file on the couch. They looked up at the sound of Sherlock’s careful steps.

“Sherlock,” Lestrade grinned grimly. “just the man I wanted to see.” John shot him a hard look before turning back to his boyfriend.

“How are you feeling sweetie?” The blogger smiled at Sherlock.

“I’m not as cold, and the pain is almost bearable.” He sniffed.

“Sit down; I’ll get you some tea and toast.”

“So Sherlock, I know you’re sick and all, but I really need your help on this case.” John’s voice drifted out from the kitchen.

“Uh-uh, no way.” John leaned around the corner. “He’s sick Greg. Just look at him.” The DI turned back to Sherlock. Despite the layer, he was shaking a little. “The poor bloke still cringes when someone talks.”

“But John-”

“No Sherlock.”

“Come on John, I need him. He could just work out a few things here in the flat.”

“I said no. Knowing Sherlock he’ll run around all of London to solve the case and his Lyme disease could get worse.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“As your doctor I say no, and that is final.”

“I’ll just-”

“What you have is serious.” John had to try so hard not to yell so he wouldn’t hurt Sherlock’s head. His voice became deathly quiet. “If you don’t take care of yourself you could die.”

“I think that might be a little extreme. Sherlock’s got a strong immune system.” John’s next words formed before his brain could process them. He couldn’t keep himself from shouting.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me ever again Sherlock!” The men stared at John in shock. The hurt in Sherlock’s eyes reflected John’s. “You promised,” he whispered.

“John I-” Sherlock’s voice was just as quiet. John just shook his head, his eyes glimmering as he turned, and walked up to his room. Sherlock fumbled with his blanket before standing up. Trying not to trip over the blanket, he walked to the stairs. Two thirds of the way up the stairs Sherlock stumbled in his haste and fell on the stairs, emitting a loud band. John rushed out immediately to see his boyfriend curled in on himself. He gasped.

“Oh Sherlock, honey.” The shorter man sat down next to the taller one. Sherlock sat up and turned to John.

“John-I’m…sorry.” John smiled softly.

“It’s okay Sherlock.”

“But it’s not okay.” John just leaned over and kissed him softly. For a few seconds they were lost in each other-lips sliding. John’s hands were in Sherlock’s hair, and Sherlock’s were behind his neck.

“What do you say to tea, toast, and crap telly?” Sherlock smiled.

“Sounds great.”

                With an arm over John’s shoulders, and an arm around Sherlock’s waist, they walked back to the living room; and John helped Sherlock into his chair. Before heading to the kitchen, the blogger kissed his detective on the forehead.

“Love you,” he whispered.

“Love you.”

 

                Well aware that he was intruding, Greg let himself out. He ran into Mrs. Hudson on the way out.

“Oh, hello dear. Haven’t seen you in a while.” Greg returned her smile.

“It’s nice to see you Mrs. Hudson.” He looked back up the stairs. “Well, I best be off. Have a good day.”

“You too dear. Oh, and Greg?” Lestrade turned around in the doorway.

“Hm?”

“Make sure you treat Sherlock well. He may have trouble conveying his emotions, but he’s not a machine.” The Detective Inspector smiled.

“I’m beginning to see that.” 


End file.
